


Can’t But Love You

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-15
Updated: 2009-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:55:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has started treating Merlin badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can’t But Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a much shorter fic with an ambiguous ending, but the boys objected. *g*

Merlin didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He was used to Arthur’s insults, delivered in a fond tone and actually meaning the opposite, because God forbid Arthur actually admitted he _cared_ about someone. Merlin knew that about him, and had learned to deal with it, and even speak the same language as Arthur in regards to insults that weren’t, really.

But lately Arthur had been snappish, criticising everything he did. His bath was cold. Merlin took too long bringing him his food. His armour was pathetic–he’d shame the kingdom if he wore that to a tournament (which was ridiculous, since Merlin had used magic to clean it, and he _knew_ it was polished and repaired, anyone could _see_ that it was polished and repaired). He called Merlin an insubordinate idiot, and the worst manservant he’d ever had, and it was biting, with none of the usual teasing undertones.

Merlin had thought they were friends. Alright, they hadn’t got off to the best start in the world, but they’d come to an understanding, were able to work as a team, and they’d certainly proven they’d do anything for one another.

Except now Arthur was acting worse than he had when they first met. Then, it was as if Merlin was an annoyance he was putting up with. Now…

He came to dread the morning, when he had to help Arthur get ready for the day. One day, after he’d dressed him, Arthur turned to him and said, “I want to practise with you today.”

“What?” Arthur hadn’t practised with him since before the tournament with Valiant. There was no need to; his knights were much better opponents, and before Ealdor no one had thought Merlin would need to learn to fight.

“I want to practise with you today,” Arthur repeated, slowly and distinctly, as if talking to a child…or an idiot.

“Why? You have knights to do that. Besides, I thought you said I was hopeless.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Arthur growled. “Now come on!”

***

Once they got out on the practice field, Arthur came at him full-force, as if he were a trained knight.

The only reason Merlin was able to hold his own was that he’d toughened up since the last time they’d done this. He’d also been watching the knights train, and he’d done a bit of fighting in Ealdor. He didn’t dare use magic, so after managing to parry two of Arthur’s blows, more by luck than anything else, and taking three more against his armour, Arthur dropped him with a blow to the helm, just as he’d done the last time he “practised” with Merlin.

He lay on the ground, his head ringing, trying to catch his breath. But he still clearly heard Arthur, as he strode away, mutter bitterly, “Sometimes I really hate you, Merlin.”

That cut through the lingering paralysis. He couldn’t have heard right, could he? Arthur didn’t hate him. At least…he’d thought he didn’t. Maybe at first, but lately…

He tried to head after Arthur right away, but his head was still ringing, and he decided since he would get in trouble if the armour wasn’t replaced properly, he needed to put it away. So he hurried back to the armoury, put it carefully away, debated seeing Gaius to check if his skull was cracked, decided it didn’t matter and headed up to Arthur’s chambers.

When he got there, he saw Arthur standing near the window, staring out at the castle grounds.

“What the hell was that about?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Arthur replied loftily, but he wasn’t looking at him.

 _Like hell he doesn’t!_ “You said you _hated_ me!” Merlin accused him, letting the hurt show in his voice.

Arthur didn’t reply, so Merlin tried again. “Arthur, what did I do? I thought all this was behind us; I thought we were friends.”

The laugh Arthur let out then was harsh, more a bark than a true laugh. “ _Friends?_ You’re not my _friend_ , Merlin, you’re just a servant!”

The words were like a slap in the face. “Well then, _sire_ , if you have no more need of me…” he spat back, then bowed in a way that made it clear he’d rather be punching Arthur in the face and left.

***

For the next two weeks, Merlin stayed away from Arthur, and Arthur didn’t demand his presence. When Gaius asked about it, Merlin muttered, “He gave me some time off,” and escaped as quickly as possible.

He found himself obsessing over what Arthur had said. He hated him. Not his friend, just a servant.

“I don’t know what happened,” he confessed to Gwen one day. “We were getting along so well…I knew he didn’t like me when we first met–I didn’t like him either–but I never thought he _hated_ me!”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” Gwen replied, hugging him.

“You didn’t hear him,” Merlin muttered gloomily. “And he was certainly bashing at me as if he meant it.”

Gwen sighed and shook her head.

***

One day, nearly three weeks after the disastrous training session, there was a knock on the door. Merlin opened it to see Morgana standing on the doorstep.

 _What’s she doing here? She always sends Gwen to pick up the sleeping draught._

“I’ll get Gaius,” he said, turning to the lab.

“No, Merlin, I came to see you,” Morgana told him.

“Me?” he repeated, bewildered.

“Yes. Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private.”

Merlin followed her to her chambers. As soon as she shut the door, she confronted him. “You have to talk to Arthur.”

“Why don’t _you_ talk to him?” Merlin shot back angrily. _I don’t want anything to do with His Royal Pratness!_

Morgana sighed in frustration, and began to pace. “I’ve tried–he won’t listen to me! All he does is glare and tell me to mind my own business. You’re the only one who can get through to him!”

“Why would I want to talk to someone who hates me?” Merlin asked sullenly, aware of the echo of his words to the dragon so long ago.

“He doesn’t hate you, Merlin.”

“But he said–”

Morgana cut him off. “Arthur’s close to you; closer than I’ve ever seen him to anyone. Before you came, he’d never smuggle a magic-user out of the city or go off to help people in another kingdom. He’d certainly never defy Uther. Arthur might not like what he was doing, but he’d go along with it. You’ve changed him, and for the better.”

“Then why–”

She sighed again. “Like I said, he’s closer to you than anyone else. I think that closeness is frightening him and he’s trying to push you away. You can’t let him.”

Merlin groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him.”

***

He decided to get it over with, and headed directly to Arthur’s chambers from Morgana’s.

Arthur was eating lunch when he came in, and glowered at him. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“You didn’t, actually.”

“Well I’m telling you now.”

“No,” Merlin told him.

Arthur stared at him. “What?”

“You owe me an explanation–”

Arthur cut him off angrily. “I don’t _owe_ you anything, Merlin. I’m the prince; I don’t owe servants anything.”

“Alright, fine, you don’t owe servants anything,” Merlin retorted. “But what about friends? Because we _are_ friends, Arthur, no matter what you say!”

Arthur suddenly slumped in his chair. “Just go away Merlin,” he said tiredly.

“But–” Merlin protested.

“I said go _away!_ ” And Arthur picked up a plate and threw it at him. Merlin ducked, and it shattered against the wall.

He stared coldly at Arthur for a moment, his heart twisting. “As you wish, _sire!_ ” he sneered, and left the room, not looking back.

***

If he never saw Arthur again that would be fine with him, but he’d promised Morgana he’d talk to him, so he tried again the next day, ambushing Arthur in a corridor on the way to practice.

“Arthur, why are you acting like this?”

Arthur hurried his steps slightly, but otherwise didn’t react.

“What did I do wrong?” He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, and certainly Arthur had never hesitated to tell him he’d made a mistake before, but he couldn’t think of any other reason for Arthur to be acting like this.

Suddenly angry, Arthur started moving toward him, menacingly. “What did you do wrong?”

Merlin backed away, suddenly afraid.

Arthur took another step. “What did you do _wrong?!_ ” he repeated incredulously. He continued to advance. Merlin backed away.

“You did _everything_ wrong!” Arthur yelled at him, taking another step.

“You’re idiotic.” Another step.

“And incompetent.” Another.

“And insubordinate.” With this last step, he’d backed Merlin into the wall of an alcove, and was right in his face.

“And you made me _love_ you!”

And he seized Merlin and kissed him, hard, then fled.

Merlin stood frozen for a moment, trying to come to terms with this. Arthur loved him. Arthur _loved_ him?! He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, that Arthur loved him or the fact that he’d confessed it.

Uther had very strict rules about what a King should be, and one of those things was stoic. Only certain emotions were permissible: pride, anger, ambition all were allowed, even encouraged. Others, like fear, doubt or uncertainty were discouraged. Love was only allowable in certain circumstances. Love for Camelot and its people was encouraged. Love for his future wife was possible, although, given the nature of royal marriages, not required.

Loving a servant…not only a servant, but a _male_ servant…Merlin shuddered at the thought of what Uther would do if he found out. Merlin would be executed, and Arthur would be severely punished.

Even worse was the fact that, aggressive and hostile as the confession had been, Arthur had made himself vulnerable to him by doing so–vulnerable to rejection, or scorn, or pity. That showed more trust than he’d given to anyone else.

And Merlin didn’t feel the same way.

He groaned and slid down the wall, wondering how he was going to deal with this.

***

After that, Arthur avoided him. He got up at the crack of dawn and went hunting until past sunset, or spent all day holding audiences with his father. On the rare occasions Merlin did encounter him, he ducked down a corridor or out the door before Merlin could approach him.

In desperation, he went to Morgana, since she was the one who’d put him up to this.

“I found out what the problem is, but now he won’t talk to me,” Merlin sighed, pulling at a loose thread on his neckerchief.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s been avoiding me and there’s no way I can even get _near_ him!” Merlin growled.

“Hmm,” Morgana mused, lips pursed in thought. “Well if that’s the case, we’ll have to be sneaky about it.”

***

From where he crouched behind the screen in Morgana’s chambers, Merlin heard Arthur come in.

“Why you wanted to have dinner with me–” he started.

“Just sit down,” Morgana cut him off.

Arthur sighed, and, peering out, Merlin saw him sit down at the table.

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Morgana called.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady,” Gwen said, bowing slightly, “but the King wishes to see you.”

Morgana sighed in seemingly genuine frustration.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to do it another time,” Arthur said, moving to rise.

“No, it shouldn’t take long. Wait here.” And Morgana left the room without another word.

Arthur stood up and headed for the door, then growled and sat back down. Merlin gave him a moment before he came out.

Arthur’s face lost all expression. “You!” Suddenly his face filled with fury. “You _planned_ this!”

“Because you wouldn’t _talk_ to me!” Merlin shot back. “I would never have gone to Morgana otherwise!”

A look of panic crossed Arthur’s face. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing!” Then, when Arthur continued to look at him suspiciously, he continued, “Seriously, Arthur, I wouldn’t tell her something like that! All I told her was that I’d found out what was wrong, but now you weren’t talking to me!”

Arthur relaxed slightly, but still looked ready to bolt.

Merlin tried to think of how to approach this. He didn’t want to reject Arthur; not after he’d actually made himself vulnerable emotionally. But he didn’t love him.

“I…care about you,” he began awkwardly, as Arthur’s face turned masklike again. “A lot. You’re the best friend I ever had. If giving up my life means that you get to go on living, then I wouldn’t hesitate…”

“But you don’t love me,” Arthur cut him off flatly.

Merlin stared at the table. “No.”

“Alright. Well. Fine,” Arthur said, attempting impassivity.

Merlin looked up, and the expression on Arthur’s face, naked and full of pain, made him reach for him.

It vanished, replaced by anger. “No. Don’t you _dare_ pity me!”

“I don’t!” Merlin blurted out, then, “I wish I did love you. You’re more than worthy of love, and you don’t deserve to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”

Arthur sighed hopelessly.

“You could dismiss me. I’d still be in Camelot, but you wouldn’t see me as often.” Arthur would be perfectly justified in doing so, although how Merlin was going to help Arthur achieve his destiny if he wasn’t near him all the time he didn’t know.

“No,” Arthur said, his voice hollow. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

“Arthur…”

Arthur shook his head, and left without another word.

***

Merlin kept serving Arthur, but things were awkward between them. Arthur never said anything except to give him orders, there was no bantering or cheerful insults, and Merlin performed his duties without comment, regardless of what they were. He almost began to wish Arthur _had_ dismissed him.

***

Arthur had sent Merlin off to polish his armour. He hadn’t commented, even though he’d just polished it two days ago. Having Merlin near him was too much, and Arthur was almost reconsidering dismissing him.

The door opened. He expected to see Merlin back again, having forgotten something, but it was Morgana.

“What do you want, Morgana?” he muttered, staring into the fire. He didn’t want to see her either.

“Arthur, what’s going on with you and Merlin?” She actually sounded concerned, rather than challenging. Arthur shot a surprised glance at her.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said dully.

“Don’t lie to me, Arthur. You were making his life miserable, and he thought you hated him, and now things are just awkward between you, so what’s going on? You’re miserable, and Merlin is wretched, so what happened?”

“I…told Merlin something, and now he doesn’t know how to act around me.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow. “‘Told him something’? What did you tell him?”

Arthur shook his head. He wasn’t going to give Morgana more material to blackmail him with, no matter how sympathetic she was acting.

Morgana frowned at him, and for the first time she sounded a bit angry. “Arthur, I know we fight all the time, but you’re like a brother to me and I love you. I hate seeing you upset, so just tell me what happened!”

Arthur blinked. He hadn’t expected this. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

Morgana made an impatient noise.

“Promise me!” he insisted.

Her face softened. “Alright, I promise.”

“I love him.”

Morgana’s eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh,” she said softly. “But…”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh,” she said again, and there was no pity on her face, only understanding. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur shrugged uncomfortably. “What can I do?”

“Are you going to dismiss him?”

“I considered it, but no.” He paused, smiling ruefully. “I must be some sort of masochist.”

Morgana came over to where he was sitting, pulled him up and hugged him. Arthur stiffened, then relaxed, and, after a long moment, hugged her back.

“I hope it works out,” she said as she released him.

Arthur just shrugged again, not meeting her eyes.

***

Merlin lay in his room, unable to sleep. He’d hated doing that to Arthur, but he _didn’t_ love him, he didn’t!

It didn’t matter anyway. Arthur would have to get married at some point, and sire an heir for the good of the realm.

Thinking about Arthur, married and happy, should have made him happy too, especially given this mess. But he found that imaging Arthur doting on someone else made him angry instead.

Even thinking of him married for the sake of convenience made Merlin want to take Arthur away somewhere and never let him go, and he realised with a shock that he wasn’t angry.

He was _jealous_.

The thought of Arthur with someone else made him want to kill something because he wanted Arthur for himself.

He sat up in bed and tried to think. He’d tried not to examine his feelings for Arthur too closely, because in the beginning Arthur had been incredibly annoying, and then because there was no need; he’d known how he felt about Arthur.

Only apparently he hadn’t.

Looking at it objectively he realised that Arthur was not only the best friend he’d ever had, closer even than Will, but that he cared about Arthur more than anyone except his mother and Gaius. And the reason he’d saved Arthur’s life all those times was not just because Arthur needed to live to accomplish his destiny, or even because Arthur was his friend.

He’d hated Sophia from the moment he’d met her, for no logical reason. He’d thought it was because she’d wanted to kill Arthur, but now he recognized that it was because Arthur had been infatuated with her. She’d taken Arthur away from him.

Alright, fine, so he was apparently in love with Arthur after all. But he wasn’t attracted to him…was he?

He thought of the kiss. It had been quick, and angry, and nothing to judge by. He imagined kissing Arthur properly, taking time to explore his mouth, and felt a flicker of interest.

He imagined sucking Arthur’s cock, while he moaned underneath him, and had to close his eyes at the thought.

He imagined Arthur fucking him, and a bolt of desire shot through him, so strong it almost blinded him.

Well, that answered that. But Arthur would never believe Merlin was in love with him. Not now.

Merlin groaned.

***

The next morning, as Arthur was eating breakfast, he asked, “Can I talk to you?”

Arthur looked at him warily. “About what?”

“I did some thinking,” he started. “And I realised I’m actually…I…”

“Spit it out, Merlin,” Arthur said, sounding amused.

“I’m in love with you.”

Arthur stared at him in silence for a moment. “No you’re not,” he said, all the amusement gone. “You’re only saying that because you think you should.”

“When have I _ever_ said anything just because I should?” Merlin shot back, and Arthur smiled reluctantly. “I really do. Why else would I have saved your life all those times?”

“You’ve saved my life twice,” Arthur said dismissively. “Besides, I’ve returned the favour.”

“When?”

“The flower and the goblet in Gedref.”

“The goblet in Gedref wasn’t poisoned!” Merlin protested, despite the fact that he knew he was getting sidetracked.

“But I didn’t _know_ that, did I? It counts!”

Merlin was struck by a horrible thought. “Is that the only reason you saved my life? Because I saved yours first?”

“ _No!_ ” Arthur blurted, then, softer, “I did it because…”

 _So he was in love with me that long ago?_ “It was more than just twice.”

“What?”

“I’ve saved your life more than twice. I’ve honestly lost count.”

“You have not!” Arthur scoffed.

“I have! Arthur, I…” Merlin squared his shoulders. This would either make Arthur turn away from him, and possibly have him executed, in which case he wouldn’t be worrying about anything anymore, or… “I’m a warlock.”

Arthur stared at him. “You’re a warlock,” he repeated.

Merlin nodded, staring at the floor.

“I can see claiming to have magic when Gwen’s in danger of execution, but why now?”

“I _do_ have magic!” Merlin protested, stung. He’d thought Arthur would be angry and hurt; he never thought he wouldn’t believe him.

“Alright then, prove it,” Arthur said, smirking.

Arthur’s goblet was empty. Merlin concentrated, and the pitcher of wine picked itself up and filled the goblet.

Arthur’s eyes widened and he shoved back from the table, knocking it over. Merlin sighed.

“You really _are_ a–” He choked, apparently unable to say it.

“I really am. I’ve saved your life several times using magic.”

Arthur ignored that. “But what are you doing _here?!_ Of all the places for a warlock to come…”

“My mother sent me here.”

“Apparently idiocy runs in the family,” Arthur said without thinking, and suddenly found himself pinned against the wall.

Merlin stalked over to him. “Don’t you _dare_ insult my mother!” he snarled.

Arthur made a strangled noise.

“I could kill you at any time, you know, or else just let you die, rather than saving your stupid life from sorceresses with knives or enchanted shields or undead warriors, but I won’t!”

He sighed and let Arthur go, and he slumped to the floor, his eyes wide.

Merlin stared down at him. “I really thought you’d become less of a prat.”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” Arthur managed, picking himself up.

“Can’t I?” Merlin asked, and Arthur paled.

Merlin suddenly took two handfuls of hair and pulled, growling. “I’m making a mess of this. I _don’t_ want to hurt you, even if you are the biggest prat ever born a lot of the time, and you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not!”

Merlin looked at Arthur, and considered challenging what was an obvious lie, but reconsidered. “Good.”

He sighed. “I don’t want people to be afraid of me. Besides,” he continued. “Now that you know, all you have to do is go to your father and you’d be rid of me.”

“I’m not going to do that!” Arthur said indignantly.

Merlin smiled slightly. “I’m glad.”

“But why tell me now?” Arthur asked, confused.

Merlin sighed. “Several reasons. Because I hated lying to you and wanted to tell you, but I was afraid of what you’d do. Because it’d be easier to help you if I don’t have to worry about you seeing my magic. But mainly because I can’t think of any other way to convince you I’m telling the truth.”

“Telling the–” Arthur started, as Merlin reached for his temple. Arthur flinched, but Merlin opened a channel between them, let Arthur _feel_ how he felt: that he was willing to do anything to keep Arthur safe, including kill or die for him; the fact that he didn’t want Arthur looking at or even _thinking_ about anyone else…and the fact that he loved him.

Arthur’s mouth opened and he stared at Merlin.

“Apparently I’ve become good at lying to myself as well as other people,” he said ruefully.

“You…” Arthur said wonderingly.

Merlin nodded.

And Arthur took his face in his hands and kissed him, and it was better than he’d imagined.


End file.
